Rendon

by Thou

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05:26

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released November 29, 2013

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Thou Baton Rouge, Louisiana

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Track Name: Fleurs de Mal
The demonic seed of European imperialists has swollen with ripeness. Its blossoms signal moral decay, salivating to conquer. A diseased concept of unalienable rights. A distorted view of sexuality. A plague upon evolution. Industrialists and aristocrats--rotting in your fancy suits, burning like cigars hung between weak lips, choking beneath the smokestacks of progress. Protectors and providers--teachers of self loathing, sentinels of the abattoirs, guardians of status quo. May you choke on your own masochistic sermons and be ground beneath the heels of conformity. My dearest comrades and young rebels--We're just more of the same. Bourgeois shackles of pacifism and inaction enabling oppression. We are accessories to slavery. Bound together by invisible reins. Pulsing through the veins. The same tumultuous, glorious blood.
Track Name: Loneliness Dances in the Gorgon's Stare
Those tools which freed us from otherworldly jailors have betrayed us to a pantheon of technology. What use is limitless knowledge if it cripples us to action? What use is logic if it drapes us in cruelty? Soul and intellect remain in a perpetual state of war. Moral atrophy: The heart grows frigid and distant; the skin becomes scaled and hard as rock; our kings are crowned in their dependence; our only inklings of nature are clouded and obscured. How we clutch to our breasts philosophies of violence. How we cling to these meaningless sides. We are as one suicidal force careening towards a unified end. Hopes and prayers cannot save us. But neither can your careful research. Neither can your complex statistics. Neither can your precious analyses. All of your science and reasoning is for naught.
Track Name: Don't Vote
Every four years the two-headed monster rises from its pit, and we have a choice between this head or that. Their party line separation is a phantasm haunting reason. It's a choice between this diseased hand or that diseased hand. We are criminals who defy law. They are criminals who defy freedom. Endless heads of a bureaucratic hydra, and so the smiling wounds we draw across each neck. While they lounge in the decadence of their capitols and dream up new rules of social conduct, we shall sink a knife in every Caesar, we shall aim our rifles and fire at every president, every senator, every statesman. Wake up. There won't be any change. In the sewer of capitalism, only the scum will rise.
Track Name: I am the Leviathan
Ten thousand years and what do we have: schools replaced with factories. Psychic vampires consume our moans, and houses are replaced with cubicles. For too long have we been dwarfed by monuments to ourselves, toiling in the shadow of collective self worth. Dialogue has been replaced by the ravings of mind gangsters. But soon this will all be swept under Lotan's tide. The rubble of the past creates the walls of the future. Holdouts of civilization tremble. Nationalistic pride crumbles. The protracted murder of the planet ends. Forsake your barren half life. Unchain the chthonic beasts.
Track Name: Shorties with MP40s
Our sisterhood is a vast and powerful ocean, a deep well of true meaning sustaining consistent and conflicting emotions and giving life value, while the constant flow of the tides caress the sides of impassive rock and create the contours of interaction that touch every layer of society. We are free! Free of your necrophilic hatred of life. Free of your all-in-my-head self doubt. Endless is our journey through trackless void, shapeless is our movement, assuming any and all forms, elemental is our force gaining wisdom in the face of desolation, and joyful is the sound of Medusa's laughter ringing in our ears. Although we have been exploited as passive pawns in the mad dash to domination, not even the heaviest most painful nor the most subtle and gilded manacles will keep us imprisoned in the home or racked with guilt over self realization and self control, neither can we be constrained beneath a glass ceiling in the rat race of your job world. Patriarchy ends here. Wisdom is attained in the face of utter destruction. And the joyful sound of Medusa's laughter rings in our ears.
Track Name: Out of the Mouth of a Fool
In the place where apathy reigns supreme, in the land of empty stares, in the land of walking corpses--animated wastes of time. This is our home. Drenched in a torrent of dissension, raining down poisoned arrows, scarring the landscape, infecting us all. Neighborhoods separated by vast gulfs of personality. Action discouraged. Decadence praised. Drink from the swollen wineskin, so full of pus. Bathe amongst the refuse and scum. Don the cloak of deceit. Take baleful curses to your lips. Death to passion. Death to innovation. Long live assimilation.
Track Name: By Every Hand Betrayed
Through a boggy haven was cut a swath three miles long. Into it you dumped tar and concrete, hate and fear. Standing so tall, even Death would tremble to take you. Running shoulder to shoulder with lions and wolves. But you're nothing. A pack of liars. Fakers. Cowards. Trapped now forever in this ghost town. Shambling spectres haunting these streets. Boundaries not set by concrete and bars--boundaries are set by neighborhoods and bars. You are paralyzed by apathy and cloaked in jaded elitism. Your wasted potential surrounds me, binds me, suffocates me. I yearn to retreat from your fortresses of bloated excess. My ears fall deaf to your stammering quips and shrill complaints. We stand eternal on the cusp of something great destined to always fall short. Decimation may be our only saving grace. Or will we stand eternal?
Track Name: The Song of Illuminate Darkness
The behaviors imposed by society are but a veneer surrounding the darkness, a saving illusion hollow at the core. The darkness is the truth. It stands in silent righteousness, the background that reveals the foreground. And no human fabrication can supplant it with the dustbin of progress. Actualize industrial collapse. We've stolen fire from the gods to raze their concrete tombs. We've cried our sorrows to the wind and the earth. And the pines stretch upwards, Nature's fingers straining towards the sky. They will reach out and pull down every ivory tower, destroying the elite, and returning arcane knowledge and lore to all. Now we can remove our masks and seek out vengeance, a saboteur in every occupation and a wrench in every machine. Remove your masks and find vengeance. Outside the walls of civilization lies a wilderness beyond belief and without end.